#leah answers

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi, can I request comfort fic with Frank? I just don't really like how my life looks right now... I don't like my job, but don't know what else I can do so I'm stuck here... and I feel really lonely recently and like I don't know what to do with my life... and reading fics are one of the few things that brings me joy...

So I thought about a fic where reader is sad and to cheer her up Frank planned a whole day for them to distract her from not kind thoughts?

And I'm sorry that I kinda dumpt it on you... I have trouble with expressing/describing my emotions and I think that was the first time I expressed those feelings to someone... Of course if you don't feel like writing this you can freely ignore this message, thank you 🫶🏻

Anon, I absolutely feel your pain. I’ve been dealing with my own work drama for months now and some days it feels like I’m going to have to completely start over to be happy. I hope I did your request justice, and if you ever need to rant to someone, my DMs are open :)

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary:  Frank helps you when work is breaking your spirit.

warnings: swearing, hints of smut but nothing graphic

w/c: 3k

Digging your jagged nails into the flesh of your palms, you forced yourself to tune out the overwhelming plethora of stimuli that was currently bombarding you on the subway. Screaming children, the heat of bodies crowding around you, the shrieking of wheels on metal tracks, some old guy coughing up a lung at the back of the car, the bright fluorescent lights beating down on the dozens of people crammed in here like sardines. Fuck, you hated the subway. 

It was especially unbearable on days where you were already overtired from work—which, recently, seemed to be every day. This job was supposed to be your ticket to a good life and a stable future, but instead it was a joyless, energy-sapping, waste of your fucking time. Your coworkers were catty, your boss far too demanding for the bottom of the barrel wages you received, and the work itself was dreary. Each day you sat in that cubicle, you could feel the light inside you flickering, just waiting for one more lackluster employee review to be completely snuffed out. 

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who felt this way about your place of employment, given that over a third of the staff at your level had quit in the last two months. Unfortunately for you, this meant longer hours and crankier conversations with your superiors, who were consistently disappointed in your performance despite you efficiently accomplishing everything that was asked of you. 

Not only did longer hours lead to you getting overstimulated on the subway, but it meant you’d been spending less time at home with your boyfriend. You’d barely seen Frank this month, between his trips out of town and your rigorous schedule, and it was driving you up a wall. All you wanted was to let him wrap himself around you, petting your hair as you cried and holding you tight when you eventually fell asleep. Though, with the way your days were going lately, most of the time you didn’t want to be touched. You just wanted to shove crap food in your mouth and pass out before you had to go back to that hellscape in the morning. 

Frank was the kindest, most thoughtful partner you’d ever had, so he gave you plenty of space on the days you came home in an emotion-filled silence. He could read your moods pretty well at this point, and always respected your wishes, even if it meant he’d be nursing a beer in the living room alone until he went to sleep. You’d hoped that today would grant you enough energy to enjoy some time with him, but the world wasn’t that charitable. 

Shuffling off the subway amongst the masses, you let your body droop slightly as you trudged back to your apartment. Practically crawling up the stairs, you eventually reached the door—shoving it open in frustration as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. 

Instantly, you were greeted with the sound of soft music and the smell of onions and garlic cooking. Frank was in the kitchen, swaying almost imperceptibly to the song he was listening to, stirring a pot of what looked like tomatoes.  

“Hey, doll,” He greeted you softly, throwing you a smile over his shoulder but remaining planted at the stove, probably in an attempt to give you space.

“Hi.” Your voice was breathy and small, your stony face accented with glassy eyes. 

Frank knew better than to expect that everything would change in a day, but the sight of your crumpling face broke his heart. Stepping towards you with a furrowed brow, he tried for a small smile. “Another bad day?” 

You nodded, the force of the movement drawing two parallel tears down your cheeks. Sniffling, you didn’t respond, confident that your voice would crack if you did. 

“Do you want a hug?” Frank asked, hesitating a few feet from you as he waited for your answer. 

“I’m n-not sure, Frankie.” You admitted, more tears pooling as you did. “Not r-right now, I think.” 

Nodding in understanding, Frank crossed his arms, as if to keep himself from hugging you anyway. “Alright, sweet girl. Not a problem. Why don’t you go lay down while I finish dinner, hm?” 

Sighing, you nodded once, padding to the bedroom and collapsing into the blankets with a poorly stifled sob. Frank winced at the sound, his hands burning with an ache to hold you, to make everything better, but he couldn’t do that until you were ready. 

You’d only given him glimpses of the nightmare you were living. Whether you didn’t talk to him about it because you were worried it would scare him away, or because you didn’t trust him, he wasn’t sure—though the dark parts of his mind were convinced it was the latter. Regardless, Frank did his best to maintain a cozy home for you. It couldn’t be easy to have a mass-murderer-turned-government-hit-man as a partner, waiting around on your own for days while he worked odd jobs for Madani, but you’d never let it impact your love for him. 

You were thoughtful, sweet, and adorably shy—not to mention you balanced him out in ways he’d never expected. The pair of you brought out the best in each other, despite your peculiar relationship. You’d never made him feel distant or guilty for leaving, simply welcoming him back from his trips with open arms and eager eyes. Yet, the past few months your job had been eating at you, sapping the life from your beautiful eyes and leaving a listless husk of his girlfriend behind. 

He didn’t want to pry, far too afraid of snapping your already fragile composure and ruining the bond you shared. But every day you came home holding back tears, and it was going to kill him. He’d rip your office apart with his bare hands if it would end your misery, though he knew you’d never ask him to do that. 

So, instead, he did as much as he could—laying out his softest sweatshirt on your bed, playing quiet music, making a warm meal for the two of you to share—all in an effort to take something off of your plate, to remove an ounce of weight from your shoulders. After a week with no indication that any of this was helpful, he’d started scheming. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too much begging to convince you to take an extra day off…

Stirring the tomato sauce one final time as he removed it from the heat, he tilted the pot over the cooked pasta, letting a ribbon of sauce drape over the noodles before giving it a quick stir. Scraping a dollop of sauce out of the pot with his finger, he popped the digit in his mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction at the array of flavors. 

Brushing his hands across his jeans, he plated two generous helpings of pasta, assuming you had worked through lunch once again, and set them in front of two chairs at your table. Steeling himself for the sight of your tear streaked face, he shuffled over to the bedroom and knocked softly. 

“Darlin’? You ready to eat?” Keeping his voice low, he gingerly opened the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light that managed to slip through your curtains, his heart squeezed at the sight of you sleeping, curled in fetal position. Your delicate hands clenched around your covers like they were your lifeline, your damp face squashed against his pillow. Biting his lip in thought, he returned to the main room to cover the pasta. 

Spending very little time tidying up, he wandered back into the bedroom, stripping out of his clothes in exchange for a pair of sweats and a worn Henley. Settling behind you with a book in hand, he slipped under the covers as unobtrusively as possible before his inner monologue made him pause. Would you even want him beside you? Was he crossing a line?

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about that for long as your sleeping form unconsciously wrapped around him, a small sigh falling from your lips as you nuzzled into his stomach. Smiling down at you, his free hand came up to stroke over your hair, his own grin widening when the soft touch made your lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. He thumbed through about a chapter of his book before you began to stir, shining lashes fluttering as your eyes opened. As the sleep disappeared from your eyes, Frank felt another wave of apprehension cresting in his chest, but the tide was quickly settled by your sweet gaze. Nestling into his side more deeply, you hummed in appreciation. “Hi, Frankie.” 

“Hi, sweet girl. Did you have a good nap?” A teasing mirth danced in his gaze, making you avert your eyes bashfully. 

“Mmm hmm. Sorry.” You murmured, rubbing your face against the fabric of his shirt. 

Clucking his tongue, Frank slid down to face you, tracing a thumb over your cheek. “No reason to be sorry, dollface. I’m glad you slept, you’ve been tired.” 

Sighing deeply, you traced the buttons on his shirt. “Work’s been a lot, recently.” 

“I figured as much, doll. Ya don’t gotta tell me anything, but I’m always here to listen, yah?” The tip of his thumb caressed your ear. 

Blinking back tears, you looked up at him apologetically, “I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, Frank, it’s just so stupid and I—“

“Hey, hey, it ain’t stupid.” Frank tugged you impossibly closer, brushing tears off your face carefully. “If it bothers ya, it’s not.” 

“You just…” You drew in a ragged breath, the inhale catching on a sob. “You have so much to worry about already, and I don’t want to be a burden!” Bawling now, you felt your chest constricting at the thought of dumping more work onto Frank’s already overflowing to-do list. 

“You’re not a burden.” Frank spoke fiercely, looking deep into your eyes. “You have never been a burden, doll. Never.”

His words were a promise, you drank in his commitment with immense desperation, praying to forces you didn’t believe in that he was being truthful. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Frankie,” Your voice cracked on the admission. “I’m fine at my job, but nobody can see that, and I don’t feel satisfied by the work that I’m doing but it’s all I know! I can’t just quit, I don’t have any other plan, this is everything I’ve worked for and—“ Your ramble broke off into sobs, your breath hitching as Frank shushed you quietly. 

“I know, I know, doll. It sucks right now and I’m so sorry.” Rubbing a hand over your back, Frank encouraged you to breathe, waiting until your lungs could actually take in oxygen before continuing. “Sweetheart, if ya wanna quit, I’ll support ya. If ya wanna stick it out, I’ll support ya. Regardless of what you choose, I’ll be right here at the end of the day.” 

“I can’t quit, Frank, we need the money.” You whimpered. 

“Hey, we can figure it out if we need to. It ain’t a problem.” 

Nodding against his palm, you considered your options. “For now, I’ll stick it out. But, thank you.” 

“No need to thank me, honey. It’s my job to look out for ya, remember?” His sappy remark sparked a tiny smile from you. “You’re my girl, sweetheart. I’m always gonna take care of my girl.” 

Nuzzling into his chest, you stifled a yawn before abruptly looking up at him with wide eyes. “Shit, Frankie, what time is it? Did I miss dinner?” Wriggling out of his embrace, you wiped the lingering tears off your face before sitting up. Frank bit his tongue to keep from chuckling at your genuine concern. 

“Dinner is waiting for us, sweet girl. I’m in no rush.” Cradling your neck, Frank pressed a languid kiss to your lips, taking advantage of your distraction and flipping you on top of him. 

“Frank!” You squealed, beaming down at him with more happiness than he’d seen from you in weeks. 

“What?” He questioned innocently, gently leading your face back to his for another kiss. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You wondered aloud, returning the kiss but looking at him with feigned exasperation. 

“I ain’t allowed to love on you now?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You rolled your eyes, shuffling off of him and out of the bed. “C’mon, you sap. Let’s eat the dinner you made before it’s ruined.” 

As the night sky populated with stars, Frank doted on you insistently. He’d reheated your dinner, turned on your favorite movie, even brought you a pint of your favorite ice cream for dessert. You’d gratefully accepted his comforts, yet he still seemed to be holding back. As he puttered around in the kitchen, doing the dishes alone (he’d staunchly refused your help), you could see the wheels turning in his brain. 

“Frank, is something wrong?” You asked, picking at a stray thread along the seam of the blanket he’d wrapped around your shoulders, gazing over at him as your heart rate pounded anxiously.

“Huh?” Your timid question snapped him out of his thoughts, his hands nearly flinging the soapy dish across the room as he spun towards you. “Oh, uh, no. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” 

Unconvinced, you nodded, nibbling on a hangnail poking out from your thumb. In an attempt to self-soothe, you shifted your attention back to the tv, but Frank’s energy still seemed out of place. 

Placing the last plate in the dishrack, Frank dried his hands, ambling over to you with a hesitant smile. “I gotta ask ya something, doll.”

Nervousness spiking, you nodded, tilting your head in anticipation of his query.

“If I asked ya to call in sick tomorrow, what would ya say?” Frank’s jaw was tight as he asked, clearly expecting anger in response.

“I’d say absolutely, love. Why do you ask?” “I was hopin’ you’d wanna take an extra day, to escape those assholes and maybe do something fun?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Frank Castle looked nervous. His eyes flirted between your gaze and his lap, his trigger finger twitching. 

“Oh, Frank, I’d love that!” You gushed, throwing your arms around him. He grunted in surprise, his own hands coming up to hold you in place so you didn’t topple off the couch. “I’ve been hesitant to take sick days because everyone’s been so on edge lately, will you sit with me when I call in?” 

“Course I will. If anyone gives ya trouble, they’ll have me to answer to.” Frank assured you with a menacing glint in his eye. Kissing his nose, you stroked a knuckle over his stubbled cheek. 

“Thank you, handsome.” 

“Anything for my girl.” 

True to his word, Frank made sure you were seated comfortably in his lap when you called in sick, both so that he could rub reassuring circles along your waist, and so that he could hook his chin over your shoulder to listen for any flack you might be given. Fortunately for your boss, they grumbled an “ok” and hung up quickly. Anything ruder than that, and they might have been on The Punisher’s shit list. 

Sinking backwards into your boyfriend’s sturdy chest, you shuddered. “Glad that’s over with.” Breathing deeply, you took a moment to collect your anxious self before standing to get ready for the day. Or, trying to stand, at least. 

A set of strong hands caught your hips, yanking them backwards to hold you in Frank’s lap. 

“Frank!” A small fit of giggles burst out of you as his fingers pressed into your ticklish skin. 

“What’s the hurry, doll? We’ve got all day.” Planting heated kisses along your neck, you felt Frank smile when you mewled in response. “Attagirl, let me make ya feel good, hmm?” 

Whisking you back to the bedroom, Frank helped you forget all about your shitty job. 

Slightly breathless following your morning exercise, you hummed happily as Frank continued to press his lips to the exposed flesh of your body, taking care to show every piece of you as much love as possible. Boxing you in with his massive arms, he molded his beautifully crooked nose against yours, finishing his trail of kisses with a lengthy kiss to your lips. 

“So, what did you have planned for today?” You asked against his lips, threading a hand in his hair. 

“Nothin’ much. I was thinkin’ maybe nice coffee and a trip to that museum you’ve been talkin’ about?” A blush crept over his cheeks. “Sorry, doll, I, uh, I ain’t too good with this…” He gestured between the two of you. 

“Aw, Frankie,” You scolded gently, kissing him tenderly. “You’re plenty good at ‘this’.” You mirrored his gesture and he rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, honey. You’re the most romantic partner I’ve ever had. And that plan sounds lovely. Let me clean up and we can go for coffee.” 

As you curled into a seated position, Frank caught your wrist. “Hey! Where do you think you’re goin’?” 

“To wash up!” You giggled, striding back over to the bed where he slotted you between his legs. 

“Nah, you’re gonna sit right here while I draw you a bath. And I’m gonna run to the coffee place across the street and get ya one of those sugary drinks ya like so much. Then we can go out, if ya feel up to it.” His demanding tone made you smirk, his military tendencies tended to come out when he was concerned about you. 

“That sounds perfect, love.” You kissed his cheek, sitting on the bed as he headed to the bathroom. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, leaving you longing for more cozy time with Frank. Though he considered himself lacking in the romance department, he’d provided you nothing but pure love on your day off, indulging your every whim just to see you smile. 

And as you fell asleep at the end of the day, you clung tightly to him, trusting him to get you through whatever life threw your way.

[daisysmalia]

Hi! Where does Oliver references Tarlos, in relation to Buck tommy? Thanks 🙂

Here you go :)

It’s from this article;

[moriohpissky]

For the artist ask game - 5, 25, & 30! 🥰

HI HI LOVELY THANKS FOR PLAYING 🙏

5.) What work are you most proud of (regardless of likes/reblogs)?

mmmmmmm this is a tough one but I would have to say probably this piece of Soul based on your AU (hehehehe :3c) I feel like I could play around with the colors to get it to a place I like a little more but I am very proud of myself for drawing that bike 💪

25.) What is your favorite work that you created this year?

I think my favorite of the year is this little illustration I did of my Fallout NV character - this is the only dog I’ve drawn this year and I’m really proud of myself for stepping outside my comfort zone and drawing a fun mecha dog

30.) Share a fun quick little sketch because why not!

One of my favorite things to do this year was rewatch shows I loved and sketch the whole time - here’s one from my BCS rewatch earlier this year :3

[synthetic-psychedelic]

2

5

10

11

2) Yes and yes 👀🤫

5) they’ve all been pretty great since they’ve been self administered and haven’t had to rely on anyone else for them 🤣

10) I have only had one sexual partner and they weren’t wildly adventurous. However upon request they tied my ankles to my wrists and we played about with some wax so it was both figuratively hot and literally.

11) 👅 👅 👅

[the-common-cowgirl]

⭐️- Put this star in the inbox of your favorite blogs. It’s time to spread positivity 💖🌈����

Bel 😭💕

[lovesquare-mlb]

🍂If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog 🍂

I have 2 younger siblings. (My sister and brother)

We have 8 different animals. (I'm not counting all of our chickens)

I had surgery when I was 12

[barcaatthemoon]

"It's getting late, come on to bed. This will all be here in the morning."

With Lia Wälti or Leah Williamson please

uni girl || leah williamson x reader ||

"ba-a-abe," leah whined. she flopped back against the couch again in a fruitless attempt to distract you from your school work. you continued to ignore her, even as she wormed her way onto your lap. "you're really ruining the whole 'dating a uni girl and having hot sex' thing for me."

"leah, i have my last exams next week, and then we can have all the hot sex you want. just, for the love of god, let me finish my notes," you told her. leah pouted and huffed as you shoved her off of your lap. this time, you curled up into yourself as you read through your study packets and textbook.

"how much more do you have to do?" leah asked you. she frowned when you ignored her, assuming that it was another ploy to get you to have sex with her. the two of you had talked about your exams, and how once it was all over, you'd be hers in every way she wanted you. there had even been talks of vacationing at a mediterranean resort. "come on, it's getting late. you've got training tomorrow, we both do."

"go up to bed then," you told her. leah placed her hand directly over what you were trying to read. "leah, you're getting on my nerves."

"it's not negotiable. you're going to bed, it's nearly midnight. it's getting late, come to bed. this will all be here in the morning," leah told you. the concern in her voice tore you away from your work. she smiled as you set the books down on the table. "good girl, come on now. i'll buy you a coffee in the morning, and we can study together."

"no distracting me then, got it?" you gave leah a pointed look. she stifled a chuckle at your attempt at intimidating her. everybody else in the world could be terrified of you, but leah only ever saw you as her precious baby of a girlfriend.

"i'll help you however you need, i promise. i'm proud of you, and i know this workload is rough with playing for the team," leah promised. you ducked your head down a little to rest against her shoulder as the two of you walked into the bedroom together. leah helped you get settled in for the night with no hints of ulterior motives.

[whatsitzface]

The way Annabeth was thinking so far ahead of Percy that Percy was confused. The way she refused to elaborate on anything, and then was like; 'I'm surrounded by idiots' whenever someone (Percy) didn't understand her. The way she looked so smug after she pushed Percy into the water and he got claimed. THE WAY SHE WAS SO BLUNT!!!!! ("ARE YOU STALKING ME??" "yeah lol")

Sorry, but that's the most accurate Annabeth in the world holy smokes Leah did such a good job. All my forgotten love for Annabeth's character that I felt while reading the books just crashed into me full force and I'm frothing at the mouth with obsession.

“-You’re gonna expect me to know how to do something I don’t know how to do, and I end up falling flat on my face, I- I can’t really have that right now.” “You still don’t get where you fit into all of this, do you?” SHE’S TALKING ABOUT THE PROPHECY AND HOW SHE KNOWS HE'S A POSIEDON KID, BUT SHE HIDES IT AS HOW HE DOESN’T KNOW HIS PLACE IN THE CAPTURE THE FLAG GAME!!!! BECAUSE SHE WON’T TELL HIM!!!! AND ITS EPIC BECAUSE IN THE CAPTURE THE FLAG GAME HE DOES FALL FLAT ON HIS FACE, BUT IN THE PROPHECY HE DOES GET HIS DAD TO SEE HIM!!!! And then she fixes his armor plate, making sure that its secure. Making sure he won't get hurt. That's not part of her plan, and things always go according to her plan. She's the game master. IM SCREAMING

[wileys-russo]

oh i’m in love https://x.com/_awfcamy/status/1790167691610787985?s=61

UH HELLO LEAH?

[queenlucythevaliant]

In Narnia, Right was right and courage came with clarity. Beauty abounded and Aslan, even across the sea, never felt so very far away.

That’s how they remembered it in England, at least. Three months gone and the edges were sanded down. Their children’s hearts remembered beauty and clung to victory. If you’re not an idealist when you’re young, there’s something wrong with you.

Peter said, and they all agreed, that their memories of Narnia were like books on a shelf. It was all still there, but filed away. To think of a particular summer dance or ship’s voyage, you had to pull the proper book from its shelf and turn the pages until you found the story you wanted. You could recall the events that way and it would be like any other memory: vivid but imperfect, bathed in old feelings and new, details intact but a fine mist of nostalgia covering the scene.

Their old skills were gone, but what use was swordsmanship in Britain? Most of the time, the Pevensie children scarcely noticed what they had lost. They played in forests and swam in ponds, went to the grocer’s and prepared for school to resume. They were children.

They thought of Narnia often, but it was as one remembers a glorious holiday by the seashore, or the most important novel you’ve ever read. It had changed their lives, but it was past, and memory; a secret language, and daydreams and play-battles out in the Professor’s woods.

Because they were children, the edges of their memories softened, they forgot the things that would have given them nightmares. Right was right in Narnia, after all. They did not remember the sticky, congealing mess of the Witch’s blood that clung to Aslan’s mouth after Beruna, when he had ripped her throat out and devoured her body. They forgot the visceral fear that Rabadash would manage to take Susan to wife by force, and what he would do to her if he did. They forgot the awful chaos of battle, the sickening stench of bellies hewn open and intestines spilling onto the sodden earth. They did not remember living to be twenty, thirty, fifty, sixty, growing old and aching with it, burying friends, and worrying about the succession. The burden of all those years would have broken any children so young.

After they were sent home for the last time, each of the Pevensie children found ways of remembering. Peter joined a fencing league, and soon found that old broadsword techniques would often flutter out of his memory’s pages and into his hands. Susan sketched until she didn’t, until she put away her pad full of fauns and castles and lions in a box of childhood nonsense—but it was many years before that happened. Edmund wrote pages and pages of reminiscences down, trying to externalize the books of his memory. Lucy daydreamed, and she dressed in bright Narnian colors, and sang Narnian songs, and a million other tiny things that scarcely anyone noticed. The Pevensie children found ways to remember. Narnia remained in their minds: a little distant, perhaps, but the ink never faded.

And one day, when he was ready, Edmund was trying to calm his father through the soldier’s panic that followed a car backfiring and he began to remember the feeling of having seen war. The book in his mind opened where the pages had been stuck together, and suddenly he knew how to help.

Lucy began to recall snatches of what it was like to grow old. She looked in on her grandparents more and more. “I know your knee isn’t what it used to be,” she smiled as she went to get the stepstool.

Susan held a classmate tight after a terrible, terrible night and trembled, remembering Rabadash’s hot breath on her face, the way he’d grabbed her forearms with bruising strength and demanded to kiss her. I understand, she whispered. It wasn’t your fault.

Peter, sitting in theology class, remembered the viscera around Aslan’s mouth and began to understand what justice meant.

The terrible parts came back in flashes as the children grew into young men and women. Memories of Narnia expanded to fit their older selves, old horrors and heartaches now many years past. Little by little, the Pevensie children grew back into themselves.

Two Lucys existed, one long past and one in the mirror. Two Edmunds, two Susans, two Peters. The present Lucy did not miss the woman she had grown to be in Narnia, except in rare instances. She had what she needed from her old self. She still had so much growing left to do.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi! Can I request something?

I would love some fluff with Frank with these prompts: thunderstorms, pillow forts and cuddling under a blanket

I hope it's okay that I picked three... I couldn't decide on just one :) Thank you 💕

Hello lovely! I made this a hurt/comfort/fluff fic. I hope that’s ok! I am so happy to give Frank all the gentle things. (Title based on Hold On by Michael Buble)

Stronger Here Together

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank receives comfort after a nasty mission.

Warnings: swearing, implied depression, non-graphic descriptions of violence

w/c: 1.8k

Keeping his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Frank desperately tried not to let the pounding raindrops drive him past his current stimulation threshold and into total insanity. This mission was the worst he’d had in a while, with the universe kindly throwing every possible worst case scenario at him despite his growing irritation. 

First, the target zipped across state lines mere hours after he’d gotten set up in a vacant motel room, meaning he had to completely reevaluate his stakeout location and do a whole other recon session in a new area. Then, the bastard made the brilliant move of teaming up with a local sex trafficking ring to peddle the drugs he’d been selling all over the tristate area. Which, fine, Frank was always ready to rid the world of some fucking perverts but these particular perverts happened to be toting massive amounts of guns, which was why he now had 4 crudely sutured wounds aching across his torso. 

Of course this was far from the end of his horrific three week endeavor. After nearly passing out from blood loss, the overwhelmingly understanding agents of the CIA and homeland decided to blame him for shit going south. And that meant he’d received earful after motherfucking earful from Madani about every little misstep he had apparently taken. All of this made up the shit sundae—top that with the pulsing aches from injuries and stiff muscles, the sheer exhaustion from the stress and intense lack of sleep, and the fact that he hadn’t seen you in 19 fucking days? Yah. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe his current mood. 

He’d sent you a short, discrete text from his burner, just letting you know that he was coming home and where his mind was at. At the beginning of your relationship, he’d come back from an equally long, equally stressful trip and exploded on you when you tried to dote on him. Though he’d never admit it, he still has nightmares about the hurt in your eyes and the sound of your sobs after he screamed at you to leave him alone. He’d man up and talk about his feelings if it meant never seeing you that upset again. 

Letting his mind wander, the tension in his body faded slightly as his thoughts drifted to images of you. His gorgeous, gentle, thoughtful girl who deserved so much better but refused to let him go. After that first rough experience, you’d learned to be less persistent with him, to treat him almost like a feral dog. Lay out some things and let him care for himself before coming to you. 

And that is exactly what you were doing while Frank drove home to you—busying yourself with household chores as you tried to make the space as cozy as possible. Though you were a bit nervous about his reaction, you had a few tricks up your sleeve to cheer both of you up on this gloomy Sunday. Once the living room was set up, you finished wiping down the counters, lit a scented candle, and nestled into an armchair while you waited for your boyfriend to arrive. 

After a 7 hour drive, and a mile long trek through the pelting rain from the one free parking spot he could find near your apartment, Frank was ready to collapse and block out the world for a week. The rough, soaked denim of his jacket was rubbing at his skin, making him downright miserable as he trudged the last few blocks to your place. Hauling himself up the stairs and in front of your door, he knocked once before resting his head against your door frame. 

Opening your door, your sweet smile morphed into a concerned frown as you took in the stiff, sopping wet man before you. 

“Oh Frankie, what happened?” Carefully pulling him into your apartment, you let him remove his boots while you snatched your softest towel from the linen closet. Handing over the cloth, you helped him strip off his drenched outer layers as he cleared his throat to speak. 

“Couldn’t find a spot. Had to walk a bit.” His voice was more gravelly than usual after being silent for so long. You tutted in sympathy, taking the damp towel and clothes from him. 

“Bet that was exactly what you wanted after the past few weeks. I’m sorry, honey. I’ll throw these in the wash. Did you want to shower?” You resisted the urge to pull him into a hug, not wanting to overwhelm him. 

Frank nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face as he shuffled to the bathroom. Turning the shower on and removing the last of his saturated clothes, Frank sighed and rubbed at his strained eyes. Taking a moment to look around, his spirits lifted slightly as he realized you’d clearly prepared the space for him. The small tiled room was pristine and scrubbed of any debris, with a clean towel and fresh set of clothes hanging over a towel bar. Christ, he loved you. 

The sounds of water bombarding ceramic walls soothed your nervous heart as you started your coffee maker. If you’d been the one to walk a mile in a torrential downpour, you’d be craving a hot drink and some soft fleece blankets when you got home. Thankfully, you already had the latter covered. 

There was a small squeak from the bathroom as Frank turned the shower off, shuffling around behind the door before emerging in a tee and sweats. Nodding his head at you, he grunted. “Thanks for the clothes.” 

“My pleasure, pumpkin. Make yourself comfy, I’ll have coffee ready in a bit.” Pulling two mugs from the cupboard, you bit back a smile as Frank turned and finally surveyed your hard work. 

“The hell is that?” 

You couldn’t stop the giggle that burst out of you at his grumpy confusion. “It’s a pillow fort!”

“A…pillow fort?” Frank scratched the back of his head, looking inquisitively at the structure you’d built. 

Nodding eagerly, you came to stand next to him. “Yup. When I was little, my siblings and I would always make forts on rainy days. I haven’t done it in years, but I thought we could both use a pick me up today.” Shifting from foot to foot, you looked up at him through your long lashes. “If you don’t like it, or it’s too childish, I can put it all back and we can pretend it never happened.” 

“Hey, no, you don’t need to do that, doll.” Frank wrapped his arms around your hesitant form, drawing you into his chest before kissing the top of your head. “I wasn’t expectin’ it, is all.” 

“Would you like to sit with me? Or did you need some time alone?” Your words were slightly muffled by his muscular torso. 

With a snort, Frank tilted your face towards his. “Fuck no. Spent enough time with myself the past few weeks.” Kissing you tenderly, he brushed a thumb over your cheek. “I’ve missed ya like hell, sweetheart.”

“God, I missed you too, Frankie. So much.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he pressed a kiss to your nose. “Why don’t you show me around the new setup?” 

Giggling happily, you took one of his hands in two of yours and tugged him over to the towering stack of cushions. “Well this is the entrance, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” Frank’s mouth twitched, feeling the dark cloud over his shoulders begin to fizzle away as you showed him the comfy nest you’d built. 

“And, if you come inside…” You scrambled into the fabric cave on all fours, Frank followed in a more rigid manner, his aching joints not pleased about the new posture. 

The structure you’d built was quite impressive. You’d utilized damn near every piece of furniture in the living room, but that meant it was tall enough for you both to sit up and sturdy enough to not collapse on top of you. There were strings of small lights hanging from the makeshift ceiling, and a pile of the softest blankets and pillows you owned waiting to be burrowed in. Everything about it was so unbelievably you that Frank could have cried. 

“So…” Sitting back on your knees, you gazed at him with wide eyes. “What do you think?” 

“It-it’s perfect, doll face.” He pushed past the crack in his voice, hoping you wouldn’t question it. “I love it.” 

“Would you like to lay down?” You offered, pulling back the duvet at the base of the pile of blankets. 

“Fuck yes.” Frank groaned, making you laugh. 

Plopping down on the squishy surface, you made grabby hands at him, earning you a hearty chuckle before your broad-shouldered love crawled on top of you. He peppered your face with stubble-rough kisses as you squirmed beneath him. 

“Frank!” You laughed, placing two fingers over his lips. “As much as I love your kisses, you should really lay down. I can see how much tension you’re holding.” You punctuated your murmur with a soft hand placed between his shoulder blades, fingers massaging the resolute knot beneath his skin. 

With an appreciative groan, Frank’s chin dropped his chest, his body inadvertently sagging downward as it stopped resisting gravity. Towing him atop your own horizontal body, you gently positioned him so that you could continue to knead at his upper back while he melted into a puddle beneath your fingers. 

Letting out a soft sound that was more moan than hum, Frank squashed his face against your neck. Kissing his forehead, your free hand came up to card through his damp hair. 

“Better?” You teased, knowingly. 

Nodding, your stoic boyfriend remained silent and pliable in your embrace. 

Carefully pulling the blankets over the two of you, you grinned as Frank shuddered with a satisfied groan. The poor guy was practically falling asleep, head pillowed on your chest as you tugged at his hair gingerly. “Did you want something to eat or drink before passing out? I think the pot of coffee I started is about ready.”

“You made coffee?” The muscular lump of boyfriend that was splayed over you rumbled hopefully at the notion. 

“Course I did. Wanted you to have something to drink when you got home. It’s decaf though, figured you’d also want to sleep.” 

“Mmm love you.” Was the only response you received. With a giggle, you nudged Frank so that you could see his face, which had gone peacefully slack thanks to your ministrations. 

“I love you too, pumpkin. Sleep first, or coffee first?” 

“Sleep. ‘M tired as fuck.” 

Chuckling, you pulled the blankets tighter around the two of you. “Sleep well, handsome. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[daisysmalia]

Sending sunflowers to bring some joy to your inbox and dash!!

I hope you have a wonderful day and a great weekend 💜💜💜

Oh thank you so much, I actually really needed this😊

Sending good vibes back to you 🩵🩵

[moriohpissky]

can u do Soul Evans for the 6 fanarts post?

oh ABSOLUTELY

[synthetic-psychedelic]

17,

22,

51,

69

17) yes a long time ago.. and again yes but a long time ago when I was young and dumb 🫠

22) any dream that penn badgley and Evan peters in are always hot af , usually involve kidnapping of some sort 😅

51) yes but not religiously, just because it makes me feel more confident 🤷‍♀️

69) no I have far to many asks right now for my hands to be elsewhere occupied 👀

[the-common-cowgirl]

The Lost Children Chapter 5 is something that I need. Like, it's not a want. it's a NEED. I'm gonna scream the moment you put it out here and smile at the angst because if it was a physical book (which is another necessity) I would throw it around my room and I would concern my mother till the point where she would ask me what is going on with the book. And she will never understand when I answer with a "it's perfect, mom" because guess what? I may or may not scream a little. The lost children is THAT good. So now I'm ranting in a language I don't really speak to beg you for another chapter. The last one was...just...

I love you. I adore you. And this ask made me giddy with joy but also witch cackle so loud that my husband asked me if I was okay. 😂

I’ll do everything in my power to make it drop tomorrow! It’s halfway done and the angst literally gave me a headache today because it’s SO much 😂

I love you ❤️❤️

[cviperfan]

*me, looking around for Unicorn Overlord yuri like the John Travolta meme*

Fine i'll do it myself